Sunrise
by haraamis
Summary: And then it was simply time for you to go. As she watches the sunrise, Hilde remembers her life with Duo. 2xH. romance, sap, natural character death implied, Hilde POV, OCs.


Title: Sunrise

Pairing: 2xH

Rating: PG

Warnings: Romance, Sap, Character death implied (but nothing violent - we

all die when we get old, right?), Hilde POV, OCs

Spoilers: Not really... I think.

Disclaimers: no, no, and no, I don't, although I would if I could, that's for sure!

Notes: This is a (very, very, very late) birthday ficlet for Sarah-chan huggles

Many, many thanks to Anne for the beta. snugs

Sunrise

The air is fresh, cold, and damp as I step out the door of the old farmhouse onto the porch surrounding it and slowly make my way over to the swing. Wrapped in a soft wool blanket, I curl up my legs, and as always, I'm a little surprised for a moment that I can still do that at my age. I cradle the tea mug against my chest and warm my hands on the hot ceramic. Leaning my head back against the cushion, I look out over the still sleeping land, waiting for the sun to rise.

You loved the sunrise. No matter how many times you'd seen it, you never got tired of it and were always full of wonder at its beauty. I've lost count of the many times I've sat here, warm and secure in the circle of your arms, wrapped in blankets against the morning chill. I wasn't a morning person then, unlike you, but I would never pass up the opportunity to see the awe in your eyes that every sunrise evoked. Sometimes I would go back to sleep for a while after the sun had come out; you would keep holding me, waiting patiently for me to wake again. It was the time of the day that solely belonged to us.

Now, things are different. I usually wake up well before dawn, but I don't mind. I don't seem to need as much sleep anymore as I did in my younger years. I enjoy the peace and quiet of the early mornings, and whenever I can, I spend them here. I can still feel your arms around me, holding me, protecting me, loving me.

I miss you.

But there is no regret. We haven't wasted a single day of our lives. We lived every minute of them. You know how to value life when you have faced death as many times as we have. It has taken its toll on us, but it has also given us a life as fulfilled as one can wish for. We have grown old knowing that it was a gift that we should cherish.

And then it was simply time for you to go. I don't question fate. I'm not asking why. It's how life goes, and I am more than grateful for the time we could spend together. And I know that you will never be truly gone. You are still with me, in my heart and in my memories.

I open my eyes just in time to see the first ray of light shooting out from behind the hills, breaking through the morning mist that obscures the landscape, eliciting sparkles from the wet grass.

The world is enveloped by a diffuse light that is so distinctly morning. Not quite able yet to defeat the lingering fog that clings to the ground, the sun slowly creeps up the sky, gaining strength with every moment. Soon she will be burning down without mercy, but right now, her touch is still gentle as she wakes the land from its slumber.

Shapes and silhouettes become clearer as the shadows give way to the light. I can see the white paint chipping off the rail of the porch. It needs to be repainted. Maybe I should ask Helen or Simon to do it.

When we came down to Earth, we didn't know what awaited us. We rebuilt this house from mere ruins with our own hands. It was worth the sweat, the aching muscles, the months of living in a tent. As the salvage business flourished, and the house grew, we realized that we would be able to live a normal life.

We were happy.

Truly happy.

I close my eyes again and let the sun caress my face and chase the chill from my old bones with her warmth. The swing gently moves from a sudden breeze. It was your idea to build it. Just like the house, we made it after old plans you had dug up somewhere. I always knew that you watched too many ancient movies.

Fondly, I brush my hand over the washed-out fabric of the cushions. So many memories. I wouldn't want to miss a single one. They are what we're made of; they've shaped us into the people we've become. This swing has seen it all. Tears, laughter, desperation, surprise. Commitments, promises, accusations, and forgiveness.

Right here, we've slept, talked, fought, and made love. And we have watched the sun rise, day by day, without fail. She has never deceived us. Even if there were clouds concealing the sky, we knew that she was there. And she always will be, even when we are long gone.

There are soft footsteps coming from the doorway. I turn my head and the first thing I see is a lot of hair. It falls messily around a tiny body, hiding the face of its owner. Naked little feet are padding toward me. A hand comes up from under the chestnut brown mass, pushing the hair out of his face and rubbing at sleepy eyes. "Grandma?"

"I'm here, Howie," I call out with a smile. I still can't believe you talked Helen into naming her son after that crazy old man.

I put my empty tea mug on the floor. Immediately, Howie crawls onto my lap, and snuggles against my chest. I put the blanket around him to keep him warm. He tucks his head under my chin and holds onto my shirt with one hand.

I think he's fallen asleep, but suddenly he pulls back to look at me. "Why are you always out here in the morning, Grandma?" His eyes are clear and bright, a dark blue with a hint of violet. He looks so much like you.

I smile at him and hold him tight. He happily snuggles close again. I look out over the landscape bathed in sunlight, and the answer suddenly falls into place.

"Why, sweetheart, I'm making sure the sun rises."


End file.
